When I first started dating the man who would eventually become my victim husband, he was all about the here, the now, the today. I was the one fueled on things like self sufficiency, grid independence, and tin foil hattery. In many ways we were a lot alike, but in the area of the now vs the future we were on different ends of the teeter totter. Four years of me, Obama, and a whole lot of Netflix eco-documentaries later, he is finally starting to show more than a benevolent interest in my parade of projects designed to keep us going when the zombie apocalypse finally hits. The man who rolled his eyes at my bucket O beans has now taken an active interest in adding a greenhouse to the backyard. After seeing a beehive on top of a high end hotel in downtown Dallas, and learning that I used to work hives with my uncle, he told me to put hives in our backyard. He who watches Harry Potter and plays World of Warcraft from sun up to sundown on weekends (if he's not fishing anyway) now plans gardens and how to build a bell siphon for our partially finished aquaponics system. It isn't his fault he came into this bondage marriage as carefree as he did. He grew up in this area and hasn't even traveled out of the state much. He hasn't been to third world countries and seen the misery and poverty the people are left in because their governments prefer them so hungry they vote for whomever promises them protection and crumbs. He's never lost his job and come home to a house with nothing but two packs of Saltines and a half quart of expired milk to eat. Things began to change shortly before we got married though, when the company he works for laid off half it's workers, and scaled the rest down to 32 hours a week. Suddenly he barely had enough money to put fuel in his truck. Forget about going on the circuit; he barely had money to pay the storage facility where he kept his bass boat. It didn't last long, but the damage to his credit was done and the realization that sometimes **** happens and there aren't any other jobs available was finally driven home. I have a buddy who isn't so much a prepper as he is a cat who always lands on his feet. Men want to be his friend, and women want... well it ain't friendship they're after. Old women want to feed him and the younger ones want to um... flirt... If ever you want something, you tell my buddy and I guarentee you'll have it or know where to get it by the end of the week. The other day he found me a section of land that isn't listed for sale but the owners are open to cash. I've looked for 2 years and nothing. He finds it in 3 days. I showed it to the Mr and outlined my plans for it. Four years ago his response would have been protest. "Baby I'm ready to take it easy. That just looks like work." His response the other day, however, was "I'll help you get it." Even an old dog can change it's ways.